Lately my blog has been quite dormant and handicapped leaning on youtube videos and assorted pictures for updates. And this isn't because I don't have anything to say. On the contrary, there is plenty to be said and written about but unfortunbately I just can't seem to put even a few decent words together these days. I think the writer in me (if there was one) has died. A slow, anonymous, sad death. I can say this with confidence because the other day I tried to write a bit about the christmas fair that was going on in the park beneath my flat. The narrative turned out worse than a "What I did last summer" essay written by an uninterested, mediocre school kid. So I abandoned it and instead turned to youtube for safe reinforcement.

Some of the things I wanted to write about was my trip to India last month, movie reviews, another heroic attempt at describing the fair, the christmas holidays that I am looking forward to and some general rambling. I suppose this post could be filed away under the last category. Is it normal to feel choked for words? Even the prepositions and articles seem hard to remember and place. I wonder if established writers hit a deadend too? Perhaps that's when they indulge in solitude and restorative spas pondering on life and other such deep philosophical things. Luckily for them they resurface fully resurrected and in exceptional form to dish out a new best-seller. I, on the other hand, would emerge with a huge credit card balance, associated guilt due to over-indulgence and having forgotten the password to my blog. Hope seems distant and blurry but maybe the new year has some flair to bring. I wait....